Living History by Unknown (best non fiction books of all time .txt) 📕

Sunday evening, I sensed something was wrong. I began to unpack our suitcases and realized that a few pieces of furniture were out of place. Items on our bed side tables had been moved around, and there was a gash in the wooden television cabinet that stood between the large windows on the South Wall. I went back into the West Sitting Hall and family den and noticed that other furniture was not where it had been. I called Gary Walters, the chief usher, and asked him what had happened while we were gone. He told me that a security team had searched all of our possessions to check for bugging devices and other breaches of security. He had forgotten to tell me about it, he said.

Nobody on my staff or on the President’s staff had been informed about the operation.

Helen Dickey, a friend from Little Rock who was staying up on the third floor, heard noises Saturday night and went downstairs to see what was happening. She was confronted by armed men dressed in black, who ordered her out of the area.

I suddenly remembered the Rush Limbaugh note placed in the Lincoln bed for Harry and Linda. I wondered, too, about the source of some bizarre stories that had appeared in the press, one citing an anonymous Secret Service employee who claimed that I had thrown a lamp at my husband. Under other circumstances, it would have been laughable that a major periodical chose to run such a ridiculous story based on nothing more than malicious rumor.

As with many of the good and bad things that have been said about me over the years, reports about my “legendary temper” are exaggerated. But in this case, I admit that I was ready to explode. I called Mack McLarty, Bill’s Chief of Staff, and David Watkins, the White House Director of Management and Administration, to let them know exactly what I had discovered and what I thought about it. I wanted to make sure this sort of thing never happened again without our knowledge.

Mack and David let me vent for a while. After looking into it, they reported that arrangements for the search had been made through the usher’s office. Mack issued orders that it was not to happen again unless he was informed, and the President approved.

I was grieving my father’s death, and I was undone by the invasion of privacy. Yes, we were living in a house that belongs to our nation. But there’s an understanding that the individuals who occupy it are allowed some rooms of their own. Ours had been violated, and it made me feel that there was no place where my family and I could go to work through our sadness alone and in peace.

I didn’t get much sleep that night, and it was a particularly short one. Starting at about 5 A.M., parents and children were lining up outside the gates for the annual Easter Egg Roll that takes place on the South Lawn Easter Monday. When I looked out the window at around 8 A.M., I saw thousands of children gathered, spoons in hand, waiting to push brightly colored Easter eggs across the grass. They were thrilled to be there, and there was no way I would let my personal concerns ruin their day. So I got dressed and stepped out into the sun. At first I was going through the motions. Then the children’s excitement and laughter, rippling across the wide green lawn, touched my heart and lifted my spirits.

The last few months had been a difficult beginning to a pitiless season in Washington.

Looking back, I realize that what sustained me most through this time was what sustained me throughout our White House tenure: my family, friends and faith. My religious faith has always been a crucial part of my life. Until he had his fatal stroke, my father knelt by his bed to say his prayers every night. And I shared his belief in the power and importance of prayer. I’ve often told audiences that if I hadn’t believed in prayer before 1992, life in the White House would have persuaded me.

Before my father’s stroke, I received an invitation from my good friend Linda Lader, who, with her husband, Phil, launched the Renaissance Weekends Bill, Chelsea and I had attended since 1983 over New Years’. These gatherings were always stimulating and led to many important friendships in our lives.

Linda invited Tipper and me to a luncheon sponsored by a women’s prayer group that included Democrats and Republicans, among them Susan Baker, the wife of the first President Bush’s Secretary of State, James Baker; Joanne Kemp, the wife of former Republican Congressman (and future Vice Presidential candidate) Jack Kemp; and Grace Nelson, married to my now Senate colleague Bill Nelson, Democrat from Florida. Holly Leachman was the spiritual spark plug who kept it all going for me and became a dear friend. Throughout my time at the White House, Holly faxed me a daily Scripture reading or faith message and came often to visit just to cheer me up or pray with me.

The lunch on February 24, 1993, was held at the Cedars, an estate on the Potomac that serves as headquarters for the National Prayer Breakfast and the prayer groups it has spawned around the world. Doug Coe, the longtime National Prayer Breakfast organizer, is a unique presence in Washington: a genuinely loving spiritual mentor and guide to anyone, regardless of party or faith, who wants to deepen his or her relationship with God and offer the gift of service to others in need. Doug became a source of strength and friendship, and he, too, often sent me notes of support. All of these relationships began at that extraordinary lunch.

Each of my “prayer partners” told me she would pray for me weekly. In addition, they presented me with a handmade book filled with messages, quotes and Scripture that they hoped would sustain me during my time in Washington. Of all the